


it's only nature, i live for danger

by happywriter16



Category: Sicario (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Mostly Gen, Sicario: Day of the Soldado - Freeform, Sicario: Day of the Soldado fic, Spoilers, Unhealthy Relationships, f/m because a het relationship is discussed, relationships between the characters listed are discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 15:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happywriter16/pseuds/happywriter16
Summary: somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous womansomethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout youmakes me wanna do things that I shouldn'tsomethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'boutnothing to prove and I'm bulletproof andknow what I'm doingthe way we're movin' like introducingus to a new thingi wanna savor, save it for laterthe taste of flavor, 'cause I'm a taker'cause I'm a giver, it's only naturei live for danger- Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande





	it's only nature, i live for danger

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even want to see this movie figuring it'll be over the top, nothing but gun battles and explosions based on the previews. Then I found out who wrote it (didn't think it was the same guy that wrote the first one). So went to see it. Liked it. Inspired to write this fic. I've been wanting to write a fic using Dangerous Woman lyrics since I first heard the song. It's perfect for this fic. Hope you enjoy.

Back when she was fighting girls who called her _Cartel whore!_ and the like – because sins of the father and all that – she would’ve liked him, him that he is now. She would’ve lusted after him. Maybe she would’ve believed she loved him if her crush went on long enough. 

Now it’s just lust but not for him. Even though he’s good looking. And makes her cum like no one else has. Yet. He’s no longer that young kid, on the small side, thin, putting on a brave face. He’s handsome, strong jaw line, deep brown eyes. Broad shoulders. Still thin but he doesn’t look like he’ll break. 

He’s tattooed now – forearms covered as well as the rest of his arms and up and around the shoulders. There’s some on his neck. Still, to this day, she likes a man with tattoos. The reveal when a man in a button up who looks just so clean cut rolls his sleeves up does it to her every time. There’s no secret as to why. She’s read enough on how fetishes develop – though using the word fetish may be too strong of a word – to know why she feels the way she feels. Men that worked for her father, tattoos here and there. 

It’s lust for what was. That powerful feeling she had waking up every day as Isabel Reyes with long, dark brown hair and people at her beck and call. She was rich. She could do anything and did. 

Now.

Yamilet. Yamilet Allende. Comfortable money thanks to the US government that doesn’t want her to talk. To afraid to kill her because she’s her father’s daughter. She knew where and how to bury secrets only for them to come to light should anything happen to her. And they are afraid of Alejandro. 

Yamilet Allende with short, blue black hair (because blonde hair on her just looked weird). Who wears glasses for fashion and works with children. It’s the least she can do. 

She feels powerful with Miguel. Though she’s scared of him. Flashes of that night he shot Alejandro sometimes coming to mind when she’s with him. 

He’s gentle with her though. Almost too gentle that she has to push him to give her what she needs. Proof that she’s as tough and strong as she used to be.  
A taste of her old life. 

It’s fucked up. 

So fucked up. 

For all the power she had back then, there was fear. Always. She’d been kidnapped before the US government got their hands on her. She’d been with her father when he’d been shot at. As she told Alejandro, she knew who he was because she always heard the stories of what happened to her father’s enemies. 

And she can be herself with Miguel. Isabel, not Yamilet or Yami. Share her past. She can do that too with Alejandro but he’s like a dad to her now. Which is fucked up but he’s one of the last connections to Mexico, home. And she trusts him more the US government. 

Alejandro can’t be all things though. So there’s Miguel. 

She can’t tell if Alejandro approves of her relationship with Miguel or not. He did forgive Miguel for shooting him in the face. Taught him everything he knows. Alejandro looks at her sometimes like he expected her to be better. 

Most of her is better than the family she was born into. The small part that isn't better remembers. Doesn’t want to forget. Always meets Miguel when he comes to her place. Always waiting for him to slide the key into the lock, take her from whatever she’s doing and fuck her. 

Because it’s not making love. It’s making due. 

The first time she saw him after that night it was almost 7 years later. She’d graduated and starting working for a non-profit in Washington, D.C. She was supposed to meet Alejandro for lunch. She was early. She hadn’t expected him to be there but he was. And so was Miguel. It’d been years but she knew it was him. She felt it.

Miguel was sitting there in his nice dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie. Both of them were smiling. She wanted to run to the table and pound her fists into his face. She even imagined herself doing it as she approached the table. When she was at the table, she asked Alejandro, “How could you?”

He explained later. She forgave him, of course, because she’d forgiven him for kidnapping her. She really didn’t have a leg to stand on even if shooting someone in the face is worse. 

Miguel found her later. He came to her apartment, which scared the shit out of her. It angered her as well. She lit into him until she dropped onto her sofa all cried out and exhausted. She vaguely remembers him putting her to bed. 

He sent flowers the next day. He brought her dinner. All completely unexpected. 

She rode him on the Mexican rug she found online to put in her living room. 

It was fast and it was hard, biting and scratching. She kicked him out when they were done, took a shower and then fell asleep. She dreamt of his calloused hands sliding all over her body, finding every erogenous zone. Then fucking her as hard as she rode him. 

When she woke up the next morning still feeling the rush she got from the night before and wanting more of it, she knew she couldn’t, didn't want to, ever really put the past behind her.


End file.
